


Only You

by bactaqueen



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Birthday Sex, M/M, Stripper AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 09:22:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bactaqueen/pseuds/bactaqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Bucky's 21st birthday. Steve promised him a present and Bucky's going to collect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only You

**Title:**  Only You  
 **Author:**  bactaqueen  
 **Rating:**  M  
 **Warnings:**  true-to-canon adult Steve/minor Bucky UST ick factor, Bucky's non-stop talking, use of "slut" in the "Bucky fucks anything with a dick" sense  
 **Setting:**  stripper AU  
 **Characters:**  Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes  
 **Disclaimer:**  This is a work of fiction. Recognizable characters belong to their respective owners. No profit is earned and no infringement is intended.  
 **Summary:**  It's Bucky's 21st birthday. Steve promised him a present and Bucky's going to collect.  
 **Author’s Note:**  I do not recommend listening to NIN's "Physical" and picturing Steve dancing in the blue booty shorts of freedom. That's why Bucky's the only one dancing.

Steve watches. He isn't sure that he wants to, but he does it anyway. On stage, Bucky shimmies out of the flimsy black fatigues and slides a broad hand from his shoulder to his hip, fingertips dug in and leaving vivid white lines that fade to pale red against his skin. His long fingers move over the bulge of his cock inside the red hot pants and his narrow hips dip and sway. This isn't a new show. This is the same routine Bucky worked out for his first show, the same routine Bucky showed him in the tiny living room of their cramped apartment. Steve remembers seeing the movie  _Gypsy_ , remembers how he felt watching that girl on stage singing her kid sister's number for lascivious men in tuxedos; he feels the same now, breathless and choked up and more turned on than he has any right to be.

Bucky's just a kid. Steve sips his drink and watches Bucky. The shorts are shiny. His ass practically glows.  _But he's not a kid,_  whispers a voice from somewhere deep inside Steve. Somewhere right around his cock, which is of course twitching, interested. Bucky's not really a kid anymore.

When he faces the crowd once again, he catches Steve's eye. He licks his lips and grins and winks. Steve blushes, hotly, absurdly.

It doesn't mean anything.

He damn well knows it does.

The song is nearly over. Steve downs the rest of his drink, feeling the burn of the vodka and the bite of the lime, wishing he'd had a few more. He could use whiskey dick right about now. He thunks his glass down and slides out of his chair.

"Tell the kid happy birthday for me," Sam says over the music, scooping Steve's empty glass off the bar.

"Will do." Steve offers a two-finger salute, and then he's slipping through the Employees Only curtain, making his way down the narrow hall to the dressing room he shares with Bucky.

They're both supposed to be off tonight, but Jim's kid got sick, so Bucky offered to cover his shift. Steve suspects he jumped to volunteer the way he did just to get him into LeHigh, to make him watch that show.

Inside the dressing room, he shuts the door firmly behind himself and runs a hand through his hair as he looks around. Nothing has changed since he was in here last. The flowers are still on the edge of Bucky's vanity, too many roses stinking up the small room. There's still wrapping paper on the floor--Steve shoves down a surge of annoyance. Bucky has never been tidy, he can't exactly expect that to change. Steve stoops to pick it up and moves to the trash can with it. That's why his back is turned when the door opens.

"What did you think of the show?"

Steve turns, listening to the click of the lock. He smiles tightly."It was good. Thought you'd retired that one."

"I un-retired it. One night only." Bucky licks his lips and looks Steve over. "Do you remember?"

He remembers everything. "What?"

"What you said?"

Steve stifles a sigh. "Bucky, no."

"You told me if I turned twenty-one and I still... That you would. Well. Nothing changed." Bucky meets his eyes. "You gonna go back on your word?"

Steve feels choked. "Do you remember what you said?"

"Proof." Bucky moves to the vanity, so close that Steve could skim his fingers down his spine. He finds a folder and pulls out two pieces of paper. "I'm twenty-one, Steve. For real. And I'm clean."

One sheet of paper is an Indiana birth certificate. The other is test results from the clinic. Steve frowns.

"This is a couple of months old, Buck."

"I haven't been with anyone in a year, Steve."

Steve jerks his head up. In the next heartbeat, Bucky is right in front of him, yanking the papers from his hands and tossing them aside, putting his hands on Steve's chest.

"Bucky..."

"No." His eyes flash. "No. Don't. Don't tell me what we should and shouldn't do. I'm not a kid anymore, Steve. You're not my dad."

"Closest thing you had to one," Steve mumbles.

"But  _not_  one." Bucky bites his lower lip, a deliberate move meant to make Steve look, to make Steve think of what that mouth can do. "Come on, you said I could have anything I wanted for my birthday."

"Anything within reason," Steve corrects automatically. He never should have made that stupid promise.

Bucky smiles, sly. "You don't think this is reasonable? Come on, Steve. I want you to fuck me."

"Jesus, Bucky, don't say it like that." Steve's hands hover in the air at Bucky's shoulders, fisting and unfisting. He wants to plunge his fingers into Bucky's hair and drag him in for a kiss. He knows one kiss will never be enough.

"How should I say it? Huh?" Bucky runs his hands up and down Steve's chest, thrusting his hips forward, in full-on seduction mode. He lifts himself so his lips are near Steve's and when he speaks, his breath comes in hot little puffs. "I want you to make me scream. I want you to--"

Steve slams his mouth down on Bucky's to make him shut up. He shoves his hands into Bucky's hair--soft, so soft, sliding like silk between his fingers. Bucky fists his hands in Steve's shirt and pushes closer, parting his lips, making a needy little sound in the back of his throat.

This is wrong. So wrong. Steve should end this. He met this kid on his knees in an alley. He took him in. Gave him a chance. This is wrong. Steve sweeps his tongue into Bucky's mouth. He slides one hand down his neck, his back, over the curve of his ass. He strokes the furrow of Bucky's ass just to feel him--

Steve tears away, gasping. "Jesus Christ, Buck, is that what I think it is?" He presses the pads of his fingers between the cheeks of Bucky's ass, hard, feeling the flat disc through the thin stretch fabric of his shorts.

Bucky grinds against his hips. "Yeah. Yeah, it is. I've been wearing it for hours." Bucky mouths at his neck, wet lips and rough tongue and sharp teeth. His fingers dig hard into Steve's chest through his t-shirt.

"What if someone had seen?" He can't keep from pressing it, manipulating the end of it.

Bucky moans, rocking his dick against Steve's hip. "Why do you think I'm wearing these?" he whines.

"I thought they were a gift."

"Steve." Bucky leans away, looking up. His eyes are impossibly dark, pupils wide, and his lips are red and wet and swollen. "Shut up."

"I just..."

Bucky pushes closer, dragging Steve down, holding his mouth near Steve's. "Shut up. I want you." His tongue flicks over Steve's lips. "I want you to fuck me. I want your cock in my ass. That's it. That's all I want."

Steve's blushing. "Don't say it like that."

"You're such a prude." He pulls Steve down for more kisses.

Maybe he is. Maybe he can be. Steve walks Bucky back until he hears the rattle of the vanity and Bucky's breathless exhale. He breathes in that sound, licks into Bucky's mouth--he tastes like makeup and Axe and sweat and energy drinks and sex. He slides his hands all over Bucky's body, tweaking nipples, scratching his short nails across his hips, tucking his fingers into the waist of the shorts.

"Please, Steve, God, please," Bucky babbles.

Steve hooks his fingers around the band and kisses Bucky one last time. He's in. He's committed. This is wrong but he's doing it, anyway, sinking to his knees, dragging Bucky's shorts down. Bucky gasps above him, his hands going to Steve's shoulders; the shorts catch on his cock, thick and hard and already leaking. Bucky's hands plunge into his hair. Steve surges forward and sucks his cock into his mouth, shoving the shorts off.

Bucky shouts. Steve grunts, one hand moving to wrap around the base of Bucky's cock and center it, the other sliding from Bucky's ankle to hip and back, to the inside of his ankle, up his leg. Bucky twists his fingers in Steve's hair and folds over, breathing hard as Steve bobs, sucks, licks. When Steve cups Bucky's sac, he moans. And when Steve fingers the edge of the base of the buttplug, Bucky starts babbling.

A litany of  _please_ s, of  _oh god yes_ es, of  _fuck me Steve fuck me_ s fall from his swollen lips. Steve swallows around Bucky's cock, taking his hand away from it to fumble in the top left drawer of Bucky's vanity. It doesn't take him long to find the bottle of lube he's looking for. Kept for years, frequently replaced, never a secret--always a promise. Steve has spent way too much time thinking about it.

Now he sets the bottle on the floor between his knees and pulls back, lips closed around the head of Bucky's cock so he can tongue the slit as he wiggles his fingertips around the disc of the plug. Bucky keeps babbling, a steady stream of filth that makes Steve's cock throb. Steve tugs out the plug. It pops free with a long, deep moan from Bucky.

"Are you going to do it now? Fuck me."

Steve releases Bucky's cock to duck his head, to lick and suck his balls as he sets the plug aside and opens his own pants. His own breathing sounds harsh to his ears, loud echoed back to him by Bucky's body. Bucky is raking fingers through his hair, twisting and tugging, or scratching at his shoulders. The little points of pain serve to ground Steve, especially when he frees his cock and moans around the sac in his mouth.

Bucky shudders and groans. "You gotta stop, man, I'm gonna come. I don't wanna come yet, I don't wanna come--" He shudders again.

Steve licks the seam between Bucky's balls as he pulls away. He peppers wet kisses over his hips and thighs, rolling his eyes up to find Bucky watching him, mouth open, eyes unfocused. Bucky hauls him up, covers his mouth, and plunges his tongue in against his. Steve kisses back, as hard as he can from this angle, and snags the lube as he pushes himself to his feet.

"Turn around," he breathes. "Watch yourself."

Bucky, the fucking exhibitionist, doesn't even hesitate. He turns away from Steve and grips the edge of the vanity, leaning forward, spreading his legs. Steve meets his eyes in the mirror and has to bite his lip to keep from saying something stupid; he looks down, at Bucky's ass presented like some kind of gift, like it's Steve's birthday, and he groans. Bucky wiggles his hips.

"Come on," he whines.

Steve thinks he'd like to do that. He tugs at his dick as he flicks open the bottle of lube and slicks his cock, as he spreads some over his fingers. He moves in, one hand going to Bucky's ass, to his yielding hole, the other going around to Bucky's belly. Steve kisses and bites at the backs of Bucky's shoulders, at his neck, as he swirls his fingertips over Bucky, then slides them in, both at once.

Bucky shudders and moans.

Steve curls his fingers forward. In the mirror, he watches Bucky's head drop forward. He feels the impatient rocking of Bucky's hips.

"Steve, please, oh God, Steve, fuck me."

Steve withdraws his fingers and wraps them, wet, around his cock. He moves his other hand from Bucky's stomach to his hair and not-so-gently yanks his head back. "Watch," he demands.

Bucky's eyes are wide, pupils blown, when he meets Steve's in the mirror.

Steve lines himself up and presses in. His hand goes to Bucky's hip, grip hard enough to bruise, and he tries to control the shaking of his own body. Bucky is hot and opens around him, closing tight just as quickly and sucking him in greedily.

"Yes. Fuck, yes, yes, fuck me. Fuck me now."

Steve drops his head, presses his forehead to the back of Bucky's shoulder. He lets his hand fall away from Bucky's hair, down to his hip, and he withdraws.

Bucky drops to the top of the vanity, arms going out in front of him. When Steve looks, Bucky's eyes are locked to him in the mirror.

They're showmen, aren't they? Steve tries to smile but it looks more like a grimace. He shoves back in.

Bucky's body bows, his lips parting in a half-shout.

They pick up a rhythm, hard and fast and merciless, Steve pounding, Bucky writhing and rocking. Bucky is noisy. Sighs, moans, pants, half-screams that echo in their little dressing room. Steve doesn't care. He should--some little voice in the back of his head tells him that he should care, that anyone who can hear knows what he's doing, what a pervert he is--but Bucky is hot and tight around his cock, and when Steve moves his hand, Bucky's dick is hard and hot against his hand, and he just doesn't care.

He leans in. Bucky twists and his lips are there, under Steve's, and Steve swallows his cries as he angles his hips and hits Bucky just right, over and over, as Bucky comes apart under him and comes over his hand, asshole clenching tight around his cock, irresistible waves of painful tightness that drag Steve groaning over the edge with him.

They stay like that for long, long moments, the weight of Steve pressing Bucky down against the vanity top, Steve's softening cock in Bucky's ass, Bucky's softening cock in his hand, his tongue in Bucky's mouth stroking lazily against his. Then Bucky shifts, and Steve remembers that he's got four inches and forty pounds on the kid, and he pulls away.

Bucky is turning before Steve can get his cock back into his pants, arms around his neck, lips against his. Steve settles his hands on Bucky's waist and tries not to feel empty.

"God, Steve, stop looking like I ripped your heart out." Bucky nips at his lower lip.

"Shut up, Buck," he murmurs, without any real fire. He wraps his arms around the kid and holds him tight, unsure. If this is the only chance he gets...

Bucky rubs his lips over Steve's collarbone. "Let me get dressed and we can go home and celebrate some more."

Steve jerks away, confused. "What?"

Bucky grins wickedly up at him. "What? You thought that was a one-time thing?"

Bucky is a slut. Steve knows this; as long as Bucky kept to kids his own age, Steve didn't care. (Steve cared and he hated that he cared, but it wasn't any of his fucking business as long as Bucky wasn't in danger.) Bucky slept around, bragged about his conquests. Steve assumed he was just another one. He assumed that tomorrow, he'd be the butt of Bucky's jokes.

Bucky touches his mouth. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

"I've heard."

Bucky stretches up to kiss him. "I only ever wanted you, Steve."


End file.
